


The Magic of Pie

by justlikedaylightsavingstime



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ace!Sam Winchester, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Identifying reader, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Reader-Insert, ace!sam, also, because as much as I love bi/pan!Sam ace!Sam is the best, bi!Reader, but NO SLURS, mentions of biphobia, protective best friend Sam, warnings for cheesiness and bad puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:08:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6212053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikedaylightsavingstime/pseuds/justlikedaylightsavingstime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader comes out as Bi. Of course Dean uses the opportunity to make lots of pisexual jokes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What was meant to be a fluffy coming out fic turned into complete silly nonsense. I sincerely apologise (Dean doesn’t though). It is also way angstier than I was planning. Technically it could be gender neutral, but it makes more sense for the reader to be someone who identifies as female. I try not to dwell on the biphobia/homophobia in any detail, because this is ultimately meant to be fluffy.
> 
> This has been sat around for at least 5 months, mostly because I wrote all the bits that inspired me and couldn't be bothered to finish it off (you can thank Ella for actually kicking my ass into gear). Some bits are written better than others but I like to think it's all hilarious.
> 
> Also, can we celebrate the fact I wrote a fic about a bi character that wasn’t about bi!Dean? Please leave comments/kudos/criticism/whatever!

You sit there blinking at Dean, your heart beating faster than it has ever done, even in the heat of a hunt. You’ve done this before. Sometimes it had worked out okay but it was devastating when it didn’t. In truth, you’re not sure that you’re ready to have your heart ripped out again. But Sam’s talked you into it (or at least sat and listened whilst you talked yourself into it). It shouldn’t be an issue, not really. But some people can be real assholes, and whilst you know that your boyfriend isn’t an asshole, there’s always that horrible feeling twisting up your insides that whispers ‘what if’.

People had crushed you before, your family and friends destroying you with one sentence or sometimes with one word. You’d got through it, that much is true. It didn’t kill you, and all in, it probably had made you stronger. In some ways it made it easier to find your true friends, the ones that shrugged when you told them, that didn’t allow anything to change. The ones who truly love you for you. But damnit, it hurt like nothing else ever could, ate away at your very soul. And Dean loves you. You know he does. God, he’s told you enough times. It should be the easiest thing in the world. But of course it isn’t. If you go there, your entire perfect world could come crashing down around you, your fantasy shattering into a million soul-destroying pieces. As much as you want to believe that it’ll all be okay, there is never going to be such thing as 100% certainty. You’d been sure (or at least as sure as you could be) before. Sure that nothing would change, that all those people loved everything about you. And occasionally you’d been wrong. Very, very wrong. One spectacular dick of a boyfriend had thrown you to the curb the minute he’d found out (bucket upon bucket of chocolate ice cream had done little to fix that particular heartbreak).

And now you are gonna tell the person who matters the most. The one person who holds your very happiness in his gentle (if calloused) hands. He’s sprawled out across his bed, his holey shirt crinkled up just above his delectable hip bones. And there’s that gorgeous smile, the one that he reserves just for you and Sammy, the one that lights up his entire face. Of course none of this helps in the slightest with your pounding nerves. Just suck it up Y/N. Just do it. 

Dean’s smile quickly transforms into a worried expression as he takes in your shaking hands and flushed cheeks. The words just don’t want to come as you look at his loving face, particularly as he sits up so he can move closer, cradling your face with his palm. Would that same affection shown in his eyes, the same warm caress of his hand against your cheek, be there once you told him? 

Swallowing down the panic, you make yourself look him straight in the eye. “Dean, I…I need to tell you something.”

For a second the worried expression remains, until you see realization flash across his face and it is replaced by something more foreboding. “I swear to God Y/N if you’ve crashed baby again…”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I mean come on Dean, are you never gonna forget that? It was one tim… Anyway, that’s not important. This isn’t a bad thing. Or at least, it shouldn’t be a bad thing.” You quickly interrupt, already regretting the withdrawal of Dean’s touch and willing yourself not to puke all over him. It’s at this point you wish you’d told him ages ago. Wished you’d just spat it out as an awful joke when it had been rolling around at the tip of your tongue one of those nights when you were drowning in whiskey. At least then you wouldn’t have to stand here, stone cold sober and wondering if he was ever gonna want to touch you again after this.

This time his expression is much more guarded, almost closing off like a mask. It’s such a Dean thing to do, you almost want to forget about all this, smile at him and maybe smush his cheek. Tease him until he retaliates, until tickling turns into kissing turns into bliss. But you can’t. There seems to be a strange mix of hope and fear in his face, even behind his schooled expression (hey, if anyone can translate Dean’s body language it’s you). “You’re pregnant.”

If anything could snap you out of your own nerves it was that. Pregnant. Wow. You’d be lying if you said that the way he almost seemed happy wasn’t utterly gratifying. Bur seriously, pregnant? Even through the nerves you can’t help but laugh, Dean’s serious face just too much. “Oh god no.”

The barest hint of a smile settles on your face as you watch relief and disappointment roll across Dean’s face. Not wanting to see what ridiculous suggestion he’s gonna come out with next, you bite the bullet. It’s time. Whatever happens, you can’t leave it any longer. With one deep breath you blurt it out in a word vomit. “I’m bisexual.”

If you were in an old western there’d be some crickets chirping, or maybe a bit of dried tumbleweed blowing across Dean’s cluttered floor. But instead you’re just met with blinking emerald eyes and a room full of silence. Silence which drags on, clawing at your skin and leaving you feeling clammy. This isn’t exactly the reaction you were hoping for. You struggle to think straight (no pun intended), ignoring the dread building in your stomach. Desperate to break the silence you do the only thing you can think of, which is to babble. “You know, it means I don’t just like guys. But it doesn’t change anything between us. I’m still me, exactly the same person and I still love you and you still...”

The words catch in your throat, threatening to choke you as you realize that maybe that’s no longer true. Maybe he isn’t as perfect as you thought. Maybe this was it, the end of this wonderful thing you have going. You can’t bear to say the words, can’t bear to have him denying them.

Not that you get the chance anyway. Before you have chance to say something no doubt completely embarrassing, he’s bounding off his bed. He walks over to you, expression unreadable. You can’t help but tense up your entire body as he steps closer. You’ve no idea what he’s going to do, what he’s going to say. Except that instead of stopping in front of you, he slips past you, briefly clasping your shoulder with his hand and muttering a gruff “Right”.

And that’s all you get. No grin, no glare, no laughing, no shouting. No acceptance or rejection. Nothing. Just a pat on the shoulder and a “Right”. And then he’s gone. Leaving you stood in his room with a fucktonne of questions.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess I couldn't wait to update!

Your entire day has been spent in dread. It didn’t feel like he’d outright rejected you, but you had been expecting something different. That dark voice in your head has been saying that he was probably just trying to think of a way to let you down gently. And as much as you know that anyone who can’t accept who you are isn’t worth your love or your time, just the thought of Dean’s rejection leaves your blood running cold ad an almost physical sharp pain blooming in your chest.

The instant he’d left his room you’d rushed back to your own. You’d needed to take some time to process what had happened and there was no way you wanted to run into Sam. But unfortunately, having spent the rest of the day locked in your own head with a neverending cycle of vicious questions has only served to escalate your fears. 

It has taken an extreme amount of willpower to pull yourself from your bed and go confront the love of your life. You’re going to have to face him eventually. The sooner you find out where he stands, the sooner you can figure out your next steps. Even if that involves moving out of the bunker (which you’re pretty sure would break you). The idea of meeting the challenge head on is beginning to lose any appeal it had now that you’ve caught sight of those bowed legs and broad shoulders. Tentatively you step into the kitchen, the nerves in your stomach making their presence known.

Dean’s got his back to you, hands busy with something on the counter. The out-of-tune humming pervading the room suggests he’s in a reasonably good mood and you can’t stop yourself from smiling when he starts wiggling his hips. It’s unusual to see him so chipper and happy, particularly since Dean’s buzz is almost always infectious. Maybe this will all end up being fine. Except that the nasty little voice in your head is at work again, telling you that he’s just happy because he’s finally decided to get rid of you. That these are the happy movements of a man who’s freed himself from the shackles of an unwanted relationship. Oh please no.

Your happy little hunter must have finally noticed your presence as he swings round, his relaxed, happy stance quickly becoming tense and a frown settling on his face. It is all you can do to stop yourself from flinching away from his change in demeanor. Particularly as he starts to yell. “Y/N, you’re not supposed to be in here!” 

You almost jump in shock as he moves towards you with his hands gently but firmly pushing you until you follow his wishes and take a step back, and then another. You can’t trust yourself to speak, sure that your voice will crack the minute you open your mouth. He doesn’t take his hands off you until you’ve been maneuvered out into the cold corridor with nothing more than a frown as he slams the door shut.

Well. Shit. Shrinking in on yourself you make your way over to the living room. Lost in shock over the way Dean treated you, you don’t realize that the room is already occupied. You’re surprised to see Sam sitting there watching TV. To be honest, it’s probably a good thing that Sam’s there. The minute he turns to glance at you and catches the tears building up in your eyes he pats the seat next to him, asking you what’s wrong. Desperate for any form of human contact, you take the invitation without hesitating. Before you know what you’re doing, you’ve got your hands fisted in Sam’s shirt and you’re sobbing pitifully into his shoulder.

Sam knows all about the whole bisexual thing, he is your best friend after all. And it’s one of those things that becomes a lot easier to say when you have a shot (or seven) in you and a sympathetic shoulder to lean on. In fact he’d taken the chance to tell you he was asexual and you’d actually had a very serious and adult conversation, at least as adult as you could get. There was only so many times even a drunk Sam could put up with you saying ‘because we’re not’ or ‘I don’t think that’s possible’ every time he said ‘let me get this straight” before he gave you up as a lost cause. He’d been the one who’d been encouraging you to tell Dean (even though he was nowhere near ready for that step himself).

All it takes for you to break down is the comforting feeling of Sam’s hand rubbing against your shoulder. The sobs shake out of you as you bury your face in his flannel shirt. The words come out, far too slowly at first and then far too fast as you build up speed. In between the exclamations of “how could he do this” and “what do I do if he hates me?” Sam somehow manages to piece together enough information to figure out the rough story. He doesn’t really say much, just pulls you closer as you finally run out of words and run his fingers through your hair as he mutters about how sorry he is.

Game of Thrones is completely forgotten as he tries to comfort you, Daenerys’ frozen face staring out from the screen. It is touching really, it takes nothing short of a tragedy to tear Sam away from his favorite show.

“I don’t want to leave, Sam. I don’t think I can do it. I love it here. I love the bunker, and I love you and I love Dean.” You burst out into a fresh set of tears.

“Hey. Hey, nobody’s said anything about leaving the bunker. No matter what’s going on with Dean, you’ll still have a home here.”

“I couldn’t do that to myself.” Sam’s puppy dog eyes blink down at you as you emphatically shake your head. “Oh God. I’m actually gonna have to go.”

And with that you’re utterly gone. Sam soon realizes that anything he says just ends up making you feel worse. He’s got no idea what to do, and you have can’t even begin to comprehend how frustrated he is about that. So he just sits there, holding you and trying to keep his mouth shut (no matter what choice words he might want to say about his brother).

A good half an hour must pass like that, just sitting there together in silence. It certainly isn’t long until the creak of the door and a tensing of Sam’s muscles bring you back into reality. Before you have chance to register what’s going on, Sam pushes you off him, jumping to stand in a rather confrontational stance. Dean isn’t even completely in the room before Sam’s in his face.

“What the Hell are you playing at, Dean?”

Dean takes a step back, carefully balancing the plate in his hands to stop it from tipping over. “Woah, Sammy, calm down. What’s got you all worked up?”

“What do you think? Did you think I wouldn’t care that Y/N comes out to you, a fucking scary thing for her to do by the way, and you don’t even talk to her. You just ignore her and push her out of the room, for God’s sake.

“What?” When you finally summon up the courage to sneak a glance at Dean’s face, you’re surprised by the expression you find there. There’s a little bit of anxiousness, but mostly the frown on his brow just looks confused as if he’s trying to figure out just what the hell his brother was talking about. He doesn’t look slightly sheepish or adamantly righteous, like you might have been expecting. 

Not that Sam lets that slow him down. “You don’t get to treat Y/N like this. I don’t give a shit what her sexuality is, she deserves so much more than you being such an asshole. And I tell you this much. I don’t care that you’re my brother. If you break up with Y/N because she’s bisexual, it’s not her that’s gonna be leaving the bunker. It’s you!”

Wow. You couldn’t have anticipated that. The words run through your mind. Sam’s…Sam’s picking you over Dean. But that is something to store away and deal with later, when you need a bit of heartwarming to keep you going. Right now, you’re about to watch the desecration of the most serious relationship you’ve ever been in.

Dean’s eyes flick between Sam’s and yours (which are dangerously close to overflowing again as you try to take in what Sam had said) before coming to rest on your face. “Oh no, really. Y/N is that what you think? You think I’m gonna dump you?”

Very gently, Dean sets down whatever he’s cradling in his hands on the table. There’s no way you can hold his stare, glancing awkwardly away. A little nod is all it takes to have Dean rushing over to Sam’s recently vacated spot, wrapping his massive paws around your own hands. Not quite believing where this conversation is going, you refuse to start hoping. He’s probably just trying to make you feel better about the break-up. Although maybe you do stop sniffling a little. “Oh Hell no! I just assumed you’d know. And when you asked me if I still loved you and I said yes. And earlier I didn’t want you to spoil the surprise.”

“The surprise?” Is all you manage to croak out, brain whirling at 50 mph.

And that’s the moment everything seems to fall into place. As he points to the table you glance over and catch sight of the plate that Dean had placed oh-so-carefully on the table earlier. Sitting atop the plate is the most delicious looking pie you’ve ever seen. And on top of the golden crusty pastry are the words “Pie for my Pisexual beauty”

“Yeah the surprise. It took me so long because I had to go out and get letter cutters, and I wasn’t going to use any of that frozen fruit crap.”

His smile droops a little when he catches sight of the look on your face. “This is okay isn’t it? I know how much you love pie, and when I got the pun in my head I just couldn’t help myself.”

It takes several seconds of gazing into Dean’s eyes for you to actually believe he’s telling the truth. He’s a terrible liar anyway and if there’s one person he can’t lie to, it’s you. He means this. He’s not dumping you. It’s a funny sensation to feel your world spin back into place.

“Yeah, pie is good.” You sniffle at him.

“I love you so much Y/N. Don’t every think otherwise. There isn’t anything in this world, or in any other world for that matter, that will ever stop me from loving every single last part of you with every ounce of my soul. How could you think that this would make a difference to us?”

“It’s happened before” you say quietly, picking up on the anger in Dean’s eyes.

“Yeah, well not now. And whichever dick was stupid enough to let you go has nothing on me. I mean come on, I’m adorable. In fact, some might go as far as to call me an Adonis.”

Halfheartedly you roll your eyes at him and playfully punch him on the shoulder. “Calm it down there, Cassanova. I don’t think there’s enough space on this couch for me and your ego.”

“That’s my girl.” You share a wide grin with him, pulling him in for a desperate kiss that lasts long enough that Sam feels the need to cut it off with his coughing.

You pull away, unable to stop smiling now, all the heartache from earlier in the day completely forgotten. Dean said that he still loves you. He knows that you’re bi and he still loves you. He LOVES you. Completely ignoring Sam you pull Dean in for another kiss, pleased to get a happy sigh out of him.

“I love you too, Dean.”

You wipe back the last of the tears from your eyes (because everyone knows hunters don’t cry) whilst Dean goes to get a knife to cut the pie (and probably a few beers too). Which just leaves you and Sam in the room together. He’s not expecting it when you throw yourself at him, hugging him as tight as you could. “Thank you. Really, Sam. That meant a lot.”

Once you pull back from the hug, you cut Sam off before he can say anything else. You’ve had enough emotional turmoil for one day. Trying to detract from the emotional moment you can tell Sam is just dying to have, you lean into him, ruffling his hair. “All I can say is, I hope you never come out to him. The last thing we need is Dean covering the bunker in playing cards. Or worse, playing Motorhead at full blast.”

Reluctantly Sam lets out a chuckle at that and Dean’s appearance in the doorway only leads your laughter to escalate. It hadn’t even been that funny to begin with, but the look of confusion on Dean’s face sends you both into another fit of giggles. 

Ignoring both of you, Dean makes his way over to the pie, lovingly raking his eyes over it. If you were capable of catching your breath in between laughs you would have indignantly declared that he never looked at you with so much tender love in your eyes. But you can’t quite bring yourself to say it when he grins at you, that same loving twinkle in his emerald eyes.

Once you and Sam have your breath back you all dig into the pie. The absolutely mouthwatering pie. You savour every single last bite, letting the tang of the cherries roll around your mouth and chewing delightedly on the just right pie crust. 

“Mmmmm. That’s good pie.” You mumble through a mouthful, sharing a smile with Dean when Sam groans in disgust at your tablemanners.

 

“Yeah well, Mom always said that pie tasted better when it was made with love.” It takes Dean a few seconds to realise that he’d said something so sappy in front of Sam, and so he selfconsciously takes an extra big bite of pie to try and play it off like it was nothing. When that doesn’t stop the knowing looks coming from his little brother, he holds up his beer in an attempt to distract him. “Here’s to us, and a celebration of everything about Y/N.”

“You cheesy git. But cheers.” You say with a grin. The clink of glass against glass sounds almost magical.

“Well, a good celebration calls for good music!” You yell, jumping up to go find the perfect record.

About a minute later you’ve slipped the record into the player (seriously, is Dean a granddad or something?). You have the chance to settle down next to Dean, snuggling into his side as he automatically put his arm around you, pulling you in close against him before the music rings out across the room. A quick glance at his face and you catch him smiling and bobbing his head as the riff comes on. “Ace of Spades, nice.”

You don’t even bother to look at Sam, you’re too busy stopping yourself from cackling again, and you can already picture the bitchface he’s flashing at you. Plus, your irresistible boyfriend chooses that moment to mutter something about how it is lucky you’ve got a good taste in music and leans in to gently capture your lips with his. That last bit of uncertainty and tension you’ve been carrying just melts away as you lose yourself in his touch. Although the younger Winchester didn’t seem as appreciative of your tender moment as the kiss is quickly broken by a cushion slamming into the back of your head.

“Hey, bitch, what was that for?” Dean yelled with a smile as he lobbed the cushion straight back at his brother’s head. 

Sam ignores the question but makes sure to shoot you a glare, which of course only heightens your amusement.

Although neither of you are expecting the words that come out of Dean’s mouth next. “Just remember when you’re ready to tell me, Sammy, I’ve got an ace cake with your name on it.”

“You…what?” At any other time you would have found the goldfish expression a hilarious look on Sam.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know? You’re my little brother, Sam. I know everything about you. Plus it’s practically all you whine about in your journal. That and a surprising amount about me and Y/N. ‘OMG I love Y/N so much. She’s so friendly and nice. And she’s never mean to me like old nasty Dean. She’s so perfect, and I love staying in and braiding my hair with her. I hope Dean asks her to marry him soon so they can dance off into the sunset and I can finally have a niece or nephew to talk about all my gooey feelings with.”

“What the hell Dean, you’ve been reading my journal?” The indignant look on  
“Only the good bits.” And that’s all it takes for Sam to launch himself at Dean, who is well ahead of the game and runs to hide behind you before Sam can even get close.

“Come on guys, can’t we discuss this like adults?” You ask as the two of them circle around you. Sam picks that moment to lunge around you, which Dean replies to by grabbing you by the shoulders and pushinging you into Sam’s path. “Right that’s it!”

The Ace of Spades still blares on in the background as the three of you tear around the bunker. There’s a lot of yelling and cursing going on, particularly when you remember that you’re the proud owner of a supersoaker watergun. But eventually some kind of tenuous truce is called (mostly because Sam doesn’t want to see where this wrestling match between you and Dean will end).

Maybe Sam spends the rest of the day in a sulk. And maybe you tell Dean off for reading his brother’s journal. And maybe you agree to help Dean cook dinner (which maybe just happens to be Sam’s favorite). And maybe by the time you’ve finished baking the ‘ace cake’ you and Dean are both covered in floury handprints, cakemix smeared across your cheeks (and a handprint on your ass you don’t notice until Sam groans and points it out). And maybe Sam forgives Dean (even if he does start hiding his journal better), at least after they have a heart to heart (which Dean does fairly willingly considering all his chat about ‘chick flick moments’). And maybe, just maybe, now that everything’s out on the table, the three of you are the happiest you’ve been in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a possibility I may add a little ficlet onto the end of this (I have an idea), but we'll have to see.
> 
> For the record I don't condone Dean reading Sam's journal or outing him, but it seemed in character to me.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [Tumblr](justlikedaylightsavingstime.tumblr.com).


End file.
